ow.

"That is only when you are sad," said May.

"Yes," said the Warden slowly, "it is only when I give way to gloom.
After all, this is a great time, it can be made a great time. If only
all men and women realised that it might be the beginning of the 'Second
Coming.' As it is, the chance may slip."

He pulled the window further in and secured it.

May pushed aside the curtain and went back into the glow and warmth of
the room.

She gathered up her knitting and thrust it into the bag.

"Are you going?" asked the Warden. He was standing now in the middle of
the room watching her.

"I'm going," said May.

"I've driven you away," he said, "by my dismal talk."

"Driven me away!" she repeated. "Oh no!" Her voice expressed a great
reproach, the reproach of one who has suffered too, and who has "dreamed
dreams." Surely he knew that she could understand!

"Forgive me!" he said, and held out his hand impulsively. At least it
seemed strangely impulsive in this self-contained man.

She put hers into it, withdrew it, and together they went to the door.
For the first time in her life May felt the sting of a strange new pain.
The open door led away from warmth and a world that was full and
satisfying--at least it would have led away from such a world--a world
new to her--only that she was saying "Good night" and not "Good-bye."
Later on she would have to say "Good-bye." How many days were there
before that--five whole days? She walked up the steps, and went into the
corridor. Louise was there, just coming towards her.

"Madame desires me to say good night," said Louise, giving May's face a
quick searching glance.

"I'll come and say good night to her," said May, "if it's not too late."

No, it was not too late. Louise led the way, marvelling at the callous
self-assurance of English people.

Louise opened her mistress's door, and though consumed with raging
curiosity, left Mrs. Dashwood to enter alone.

"Oh, May!" cried Lady Dashwood. She was moving about the room in a grey
dressing-gown, looking very restless, and with her hair down.

"You didn't come down again," said May; "you were tired?"

"I wasn't tired!" Here Lady Dashwood paused. "May, I have, by pure
accident, come upon a letter--from Belinda to Gwen. I don't know how it
came among my own letters, but there it was, opened. I don't know if I
opened it by mistake, but anyhow there it was opened; I began reading
the nauseous rubbish, and then realised that